


The Bunker

by phvbe



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Angst, Bellarke AU Week, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, There will be fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-28
Updated: 2015-07-28
Packaged: 2018-04-11 19:47:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4449923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phvbe/pseuds/phvbe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Raven and Clarke figure out that all of the adults in the Bunker have been killed, and that they're running out of time before they and the rest of the 100 need to leave. Clarke finds it difficult not only surviving on Earth, but having to co-lead with Bellamy Blake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bunker

**Author's Note:**

> The premise is a bit different from the show, but the result is the same. 100 teenagers stranded on earth, and lots of Bellarke ;) there's not much in this chapter but I really wanted to spend some time setting the scene, so so sorry! This is my first fic, I hope you like it!

_Tomorrow it will have been exactly 20 years since the world began. That is to say, 20 years since a group of 500 college students quarantined themselves in a massive bunker to “escape the end times,” and, “secure a future for humanity.” Whatever. That’s just what my parents used to say._

 

_Apparently this all happened because of a virus. I’m not really big on science so I’ll skip the details, but it was essentially on its way to eradicating the human race. Fun stuff. So, some obscure, probably really shady philanthropist professor at this prestigious university opened his weird apocalypse dungeon to his students. Turned out that the bunker could only fit 500 people, so this asshole, with complete apathy, chose students from various departments who he deemed useful to join his so-called utopia. My father was an engineering major and my mother a medicine major. Anyway, our lord and savior ended up killing himself precisely 17 years in and many people actually followed suit. My parents were a couple of them, leaving me behind just two years ago. I’ve lived in our little corner of the big metal box by myself since then._

 

_As of today there’s only about 200 left of the original 500. It’s crazy what being trapped in a bunker can do to a person. But I’m not even sure how many of their kids are left. It’s hard for me to keep track. I mean, I only have one friend._

 

_Her name is Raven. Imagine that word as a person and Raven is pretty much just what you’d expect. She’s got dark brown hair that always looks perfect, with light brown skin and gorgeous dark eyes. Her skin shines like marbles in the fluorescent light of the bunker, making me wonder what it would look like in real, natural light. Probably still radiant as fuck. She’s 17, like me, but she’s an amazing mechanic._

 

_Raven’s father was a married man having an affair with her mother, so he didn’t stick around after she was born. She didn’t even know who he was. And then her mother overdosed on pills six years ago. She’s had to live all on her own since she was fucking_ 11. _Now Raven lives on her own in the room across the hall from me. Minors aren't allowed to share quarters, so this is as close as we’ll get until we’re 18._

 

   Clarke hears a knock on the door and jumps. She checks the clock. 12:22 A.M. It’s past curfew. There shouldn’t be anyone at her door. She was about to hide the messy pile of papers she’d been writing on when she hears the sound of crying coming from the other side of the wall. She throws the door open to Raven kneeling on the metal floor in front of the doorway. She’s in hysterics. 

 

   Clarke doesn’t know what to say. She isn’t good at comforting people, and she hasn’t seen Raven like this since her mom died. She takes Raven by the hand and pulls her into a tight embrace, feeling her own eyes water. She clears her throat and forces a low whisper. “Raven? Raven, what’s wrong?”

 

   “I…I..can’t,”

 

   “It’s okay, shhh, sit down.” She leads Raven to her ratty sofa and sits her down with a blanket, then gets out the twinkies. Clarke hates the things but Raven absolutely adores them. These days, they’re getting rare.

 

   But when Clarke offers one to her, Raven refuses, shaking her head as thick beads of tears roll down her face. Clarke settles on gently placing her hand on Raven’s back, moving her fingers slowly across the scratchy cotton of the blanket. It takes several minutes for Raven to calm down enough to speak, continuing to shake her head and keeping her eyes squeezed shut. 

 

   “They’re dead,” Raven finally whispers, her voice cracking. Clarke’s heart feels like it’s being strangled as she waits for her to explain, but Raven just returns to sobbing.

 

   “Wh-who’s dead?” Clarke struggles out, not really wanting to hear the answer.

 

   Raven takes another moment to catch her breath, and stares at Clarke’s forehead when she speaks again. “Everyone,” she says with wide eyes.

 

   Clarke can’t help but laugh, even though she’s on the verge of tears herself. _Everyone? No._ She nearly scoffs. But then her mind flies to just a couple years ago, remembering the mass suicides. She swallows the heavy lump in her throat. “Raven, what do you mean? You don’t mean everyone.”

 

   “ _Everyone_ ,” Raven repeats, now holding back her sobs. 

 

   Clarke’s resolve hardens, and she stares at her best friend, lifting an eyebrow. “Show me.” Raven sighs, exasperated, but she stands, wobbling a little bit. Clarke reaches to steady her and then follows her out of her quarters.

 

   Raven races down the hall, as if whatever she’s trying to reach would disappear before they get there. Clarke trails her at a more leisurely pace. She’s still not convinced. She doesn’t know what’s going on, but she considers her best friend might be going a little crazy. Raven stops at the door to the cafeteria. She turns to Clarke, wiping a stray tear. “Brace yourself,” she says in a low voice. Clarke has to stop herself from laughing again. What was with her?

 

   Raven opens the door slowly, and the two girls step inside. 

 

   “Shit.” Clarke stands stupidly with her mouth open. She takes slow steps further into the large room, studying the scene before her. All of the members of the Council are in the room — having an after-curfew meeting no doubt — sitting slumped over at the centermost table. And Clarke doesn’t think it’s because they decided to have a mid-meeting nap. Her pace quickens when she sees Thelonious Jaha, their Chancellor since the Professor kicked the bucket. Clarke inhales deeply. She walks up to Jaha checks for a pulse. There isn’t one. Clarke’s breath catches in her throat and she methodically moves around the table, checking for any sign of life.

 

   Raven is standing with her arms crossed. Her eyes are red and puffy, but there’s a near annoyance in her gaze. Clarke returns to her, solemn. “Told you,” Raven whispers, but there isn’t any malice or teasing in her voice. She just sounds sad.

 

   “How’d you find out?” Clarke asks, trying not to sound too pushy. “We’re not supposed to be outside of our quarters right now.” Raven snorts, but nods slowly.

 

   “I was working on my sink — damn thing keeps clogging — and I cut myself. I had to go to the med bay,” Raven says, holding up her right index finger, which Clarke just now notices is wrapped in an old bandage. “When I got there, the lady running the desk was sleeping — at least that’s what I thought. I know it’s rude to wake people up, but she was supposed to be working, and my fucking finger was bleeding…” she trails off, remembering how very dead the woman she was complaining about was. “So I tried to wake her up. I got so frustrated I pushed her and she just fell out of her chair. I nearly screamed I was so upset, but I just decided to fix myself up and steal some food from the kitchens. But when I was about to cut through the cafeteria, I saw…this,” she says, gesturing to the dead council members before them.

 

   “How do you know it’s everyone?” Clarke asks, hopeful.

 

   Raven droops her head a little, obviously embarrassed. “Shit, Clarke I forgot to tell you. Well technically it’s not _everyone_ , but it’s like _almost_ everyone, and-”

 

   “Raven, just tell me,” Clarke sighs, sitting at a table separate from the one already occupied.

 

   Raven grunts and sits down next to Clarke. “After the initial shock of finding a bunch of dead people, I was curious about why they were having this _secret meeting_. So I looked at their papers. It was really fucking confusing at first but the basic gist of it is simple.” Raven sucks her breath in, preparing to explain. “The Professor had every single one of the original 500 implanted with a micro-chip-thing in their forearm,” She says, and Clarke holds her arm, wincing. “Apparently the crazy jackass had this sort of kill switch set up in all of the chips so that he could just kill someone with the click of a button if he wanted. Obviously, this really upset everyone when they found out, so they managed to make sure nobody born in this place got a chip. But no one ever had theirs removed.” Raven’s eyes droop and Clarke’s breath hitches in understanding.

 

   “The Council was meeting,” Raven continues, “To discuss rumors of someone in the bunker having hacked into the Professor’s old systems and finding a way to activate the kill switch for everyone. I’m guessing they were too late.” Raven eyes close and then open, and Clarke does the same with her mouth before speaking.

 

   “Oh god.” Clarke’s head is spinning. “What the fuck. What the _fuck_.” But then she pauses, thinking. “Wait, so it’s _not_ everyone,” Clarke breathes, disturbingly relieved. Raven gives her a small nod. “Everyone born in the bunker is still alive. So everyone under, like, 20 is still here.” She smiles a bit too wide for the current circumstances, but she doesn’t care. 

 

   “Clarke,” Raven says in a voice that sounds almost like a warning, “You do realize that everyone who actually had parents just lost them?” Clarke’s smile fades at that. “They’re about to go through exactly what we did with our parents,” Raven finishes softly.

 

   “Oh my god, Raven. They’re all gonna wake up with no parents. They’re gonna find they’re parents. Dead. What are we gonna do?” Clarke is shaking now, and it’s Raven doing the comforting this time.

 

   “I really don’t know,” Raven whispers, and Clarke notices the genuine fear in her friend’s eyes. 

 

* * *

 

   The next morning is chaos. People everywhere are crying, and no one has a clue what’s going on. Raven and Clarke cleaned up the mess in the cafeteria the night before, deciding that they would be needing the space to calm things down. Or at least try to sort things out. They eventually manage to gather what they think is most of the 100 or so raging teenagers in the cafeteria after a few hours. And it was almost all teenagers - the youngest there was a girl named Charlotte, who was about 12. The reason for this was that all women in the Bunker have their ovaries removed at the age of 35. Clarke guessed this was to keep women who change their minds about having kids late in the game from just adding on to the population. It was a dick move in her opinion. Likewise, girls are given built in contraceptives right when they get their periods. They last for about 2 years, so they keep getting replaced until the girl turns 21. That one bothered her less. No one born in the bunker has turned 21 yet, and all the original women had been over 35 for a while now. 

 

   Raven and Clarke have taken it upon themselves to tell everyone what happened, which makes Clarke want to laugh because she could never see herself in a position of leadership. She already feels her palms sweating and a lump forming in her throat, so she leaves the speech to Raven. Raven manages to get the attention of the room with a bang of a pan on the table in front of her. She and Clarke both jump on the table, Clarke mostly being there for support. Once a quiet settles, Raven speaks.

 

   “As you are probably aware by now, all of the original members of the Bunker are dead.” There are a few scattered wails as she pauses. Clarke is amazed at how level Raven’s voice is. “Clarke and I know why.” At this, just as Clarke expected, there are several accusatory shouts and gasps. Raven just waves them off calmly. “We didn’t _do_ it. Here’s what I know.” Raven goes on to explain the whole situation just how she had to Clarke. By the end there’s a lot of whispering and even more sobbing going on. One boy towards the front of the crowd raises his hand politely. Clarke hides her smirk behind her hand. Raven calls on him like a classroom teacher. 

 

   The boy steps forward, looking surprisingly angry for his polite demeanor. He looks up to Raven then around at the crowd of teenagers as he speaks, “So who did it? Whoever killed them probably wasn’t one of them. So they must still be alive.” The room gets loud — really loud — as people start looking around at each other. Clarke gulps at the heavy atmosphere of tension and fear. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees a cocky looking boy with slicked back hair and a smirk heading towards the table she is standing on. It’s James Fielder, and that boy makes her nauseous. Coincidentally, she feels her stomach twist. When he reaches her and Raven, he simply raises his eyebrows at them. Raven nods and backs off the table, and Clarke, somewhat begrudgingly, does the same. 

 

   The boy steps up and clears his throat, waiting expectantly. The crowd quiets some, intrigued. “Don’t you see what this means?” James starts. Clarke already doesn’t like where this is going. “We’re on our own now,” James says it like it’s a good thing. Something to be excited about. “We can do what we want. I hit that switch so we could be free. I did it so that-”

 

   James is cut off by a furious looking girl with blonde hair and tears pouring out of her eyes. It’s Charlotte. “You did it? You killed my parents!” she screams. Clarke sees her reach in her pocket for something. “You deserve to die.” and in one fluid motion, she draws a sharp-looking knife from her pocket and hurls it at James. It hits him square in the eye before he can get out of the way. He sinks down to the table and falls with a sickening thud. There are several screams and still more crying. But no one approaches the Charlotte. She’s sunk down to the floor, holding her head in her hands. Clarke feels for her. She would have killed the asshole, too, if she had a chance. Looking at his body makes her sick, so she goes to try and comfort Charlotte, seeing as no one else seems to be. She leaves Raven gaping, knowing that she would be fine. The girl’s tough as nails.

 

   “Hey,” Clarke says cautiously to Charlotte when she reaches her. She looks up, blonde hair spilling into her tear-stained face. Rather than make her stand, Clarke crouches down in front of Charlotte. She just continues to sob, shoulders shaking furiously. Clarke slowly reaches out and rubs her back, just as she had done with Raven the night before. “It’s ok,” she whispers, both to herself and Charlotte, she realizes. Charlotte melts in to her and pulls her in to a full on hug, squeezing Clarke's ribcage. Clarke closes her eyes and reciprocates.

 

   “You don’t think I’m a monster? Because of what I did?” Charlotte whispered in Clarke's ear with a voice much softer than when she was yelling at James. 

 

   Clarke shook her head. “You’re hurting. You’re in some real pain. And he caused it. He was a monster. And you slew him,” Clarke says simply. She knows that not everyone sees it like that, but what would they do with him if someone hadn’t killed him? Take him back in? No way. Put in the effort to imprison him? For what? In all honesty, Clarke's glad that someone killed him. She just wishes that someone was her. Someone who just lost their parents shouldn’t have to live with the weight of taking someone’s life. Even if said life was that of an insane scumbag. 

 

   Charlotte pulls away from Clarke and looks at her with shining eyes. She was only 12. This pulls at Clarke’s heart. “Thank you,” she says quietly. “But you should go.” Clarke is confused, but then Charlotte points to the table they had been using as a stage, where Raven is now standing and looking at Clarke. She notices that James body has been moved to the floor.

   Clarke smiles to Charlotte once and heads back to Raven.

 

   Raven looks at her with concern. “Is she okay?” she asks. Clarke nods. “Good.” Her tone grows more hurried. “Clarke, what are we going to do? I just looked through all the files having to do with the mass kill switch, and it’s not good. It has more to do with than just the microchips. By tomorrow, we’ll loose power. That means heating and plumbing, too. And that’s not even the worst of it. The psycho who built this place, the Professor? Apparently he has bombs planted in the walls all throughout the Bunker. They’re set to blow in less than a week. We need to get out of here. We need to leave the Bunker.”

 

* * *

 

 

   Each remaining member of the Bunker has been equipped with a backpack and a sense of crippling fear. Clarke helped Raven tell them about their situation just six hours before, and they all worked surprisingly well for a group of distraught teenagers. Clarke asked them all to go back to their quarters and bring anything of use back to the cafeteria. This included food, blankets, and clothes, amongst other miscellaneous things. She and Raven put together a team of people to search the rest of the Bunker, as well as the quarters of adults that didn’t have any children. The results were surprisingly good. Clarke was starting to feel better about leaving the bunker, but then she remembered why they were there in the first place. Is the virus still out there? Are _people_ still out there? The bunker has a radio, but there had been radio silence since the first year inside. She’d decided to push that thought out of her mind.

 

   Now, Clarke is making a last minute check through her quarters. She grabs the twinkies on impulse, justifying it with the fact that they’re food. Technically. She also takes her secret stash of drawing supplies. It’s just a few pencils and some charcoal, but she couldn’t imagine leaving without it. Clarke has always loved art. It’s the only thing she ever wanted to do more than be a doctor, like her mother. She stuffs the pencils and charcoal in the bottom of her backpack. And then it hits her. She will never see this room again. She sinks into the couch and cries silently. It’s another half an hour before she can finally leave her quarters and say goodbye. She meets everyone back in the cafeteria. Raven shows her a huge stock of nylon fabric she found in Jaha’s quarters that she says they can use for tents. Clarke nods quietly. 

 

   They establish that they’re going to need some things from the Bunker that just won’t fit in a backpack, so they find some old trolleys and stock them with various items, mainly mattresses. No one wants to sleep on the ground, even though they’d never even touched it. Clarke rolls back and forth on the balls of her feet nervously, repeating the code she’d found for the bunker door in Jaha’s room. She’s startled by a hand on her shoulder and swings around wildly. The boy raises his eyebrows and smirks. Her gaze lingers on the freckles scattered all over his face for a moment. She stiffens when she realizes his hand is still on her shoulder. She stares at it and he stares at it too, eventually lowering it back to his side.

 

   “You fucking scared me,” she says, and it comes out more breathy than she had intended. He raises his eyebrows again and smiles even wider. _Fuck_. Were those dimples? Of course they were dimples. 

 

   “Jeez, Princess, calm down. Jumpy much, Clarke?” She squints at him and asks him a silent question. He seems to understand because he says, “Everyone knows your name now, Princess. You made that certain when you decided to take charge.” She feels stupid. But also somehow offended. And irritated. Definitely irritated.

 

   “Don’t call me Princess. I didn’t ‘decide’ to take charge. It was forced upon me when Raven found this all out. What, you think you could do a better job?” She adds the last part on when she see the amused look on his face.

 

   “Yeah, as a matter of fact I do,” he says, positively grinning now. “Maybe we can lead together.” He winks at her and she just, ugh. No. She squares her shoulders and lifts her chin up, but it does little for her confidence because she realizes that he’s over a head taller than her. And ripped. Man, she can tell that even with a t-shirt on. Seriously, dude? She decides to change the subject — which, by the way, she doesn’t even know why she should have to be doing. There shouldn’t be a subject. There shouldn’t be a conversation!

 

   “Whatever. Why don’t you seem even at all bothered by all this? Who the hell are you?” She crosses her arms over her chest, which she notices he’d been glancing at.

 

   He does a mock bow and she scoffs. “Bellamy Blake, at your service, Princess.” He stands back up, still smirking. “I didn’t have any parents to lose. My mother was killed for having my sister. Awful nice of the Professor, don’t you think? Now Octavia doesn’t have to hide. She gets a second chance.” His tone turned serious with his last couple of sentences. Clarke shivers, remembering hearing about the girl under the floorboards. That was just a euphemism, of course. They don’t have floor boards.

 

   “That doesn’t make it okay that over 200 people died,” Clarke snapped.

 

   “I wasn’t saying that it did, Princess. You asked, and I told.” Bellamy’s eyes harden before glazing over, any openness gone. Clarke starts beating herself up internally. And then even more, because why does she care? Screw Bellamy Blake.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure how long it's gonna take for me to update this. I've just been feeling it so I was able to get a decent chapter out. I hope you liked it and please ask questions or make suggestions because it would definitely help me out with writing this fic!
> 
> **edit: I'm discontinuing this indefinitely. I made this a long time ago and abandoned it and I don't know if I'll ever pick up on it again but I might lol


End file.
